


The One Who Holds My Hand

by PatrickVghnStump



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: F/M, Ghosts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-06 19:28:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3145859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatrickVghnStump/pseuds/PatrickVghnStump
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one who holds my hand is very special. Unique. Impossible. Quite literally impossible in some people's eyes. Especially considering he's dead. I never believed in ghosts until a few months ago. They'd always been part of Halloween stories, campfire stories... Once you're dead you're dead, right? Wrong. Very wrong. It breaks my heart to think I used to not believe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Who Holds My Hand

My hand was always cold; just one. I was complaining about it when my cousin, who's about eleven years old, told me it was because a ghost was holding my hand. She smiled at the air next to me and then continued playing with her Captain America action figure. I drew my hand off my lap; the top was growing cold, like someone had put and ice pack on it. My cousin looked up at me and smiled. "You should talk to him," she said. "He's nice! His name is Patrick."

My heart stopped. Like... Patrick Stump? I shook my head. "Stump?" I asked her. I could always be wishful. He'd died a few years ago in a car accident. 

She smiled wider. "You always liked him, right?" 

I nodded. "Are you messing with me? It's not nice. Ghosts aren't real, Lisa." I said.

"They _are_ real, Allie! And he likes you a lot," she said. "Tell her, Patrick!" Lisa said. I felt the cold sensation return to my hand. This time, it was the underside of my hand, and the top of my thigh. I must have flinched because Lisa frowned. "What's wrong?" 

"It.. It's weird, that's all. You say for a ghost to do something and it listens. If you told it to talk could I hear it?" I asked, now curious. The smaller blonde shrugged. "Maybe. But I really don't have to. He'll listen to you." 

I smiled, still unsure. "Ok um... Patrick?"

I felt the cold return but heard nothing. "See? Lisa, ghosts aren't real. They aren't."

"What do you mean? _Not real_?" a male voice asked. I jumped. "What the fuck?" I yelped.

"Of course I'm real, Allie!" the voice said again.

Oh my fucking GOD. That's Patrick Stump's voice. I looked at Lisa with a look of disbelief. "Patrick? You're-?" His image shimmered into view. "Of course I am!" 

Oh my god. He looked fucking amazing. Scruff. Fedora. Cardigan. Those god damn Velcro shoes. Holy fucking SHIT did he look hot. I smiled, and moved the hair from my eyes. I tired to reach out to him, but my hand passed through his arm. I frowned. "Oh! Sorry, Allie, I can make myself solid but... Only if you're _completely convinced_ that I'm real. You're on the border of belief and disbelief. You gotta really know I'm here," he said, scratching his beard. I melted. Right then, I knew I wasn't dreaming. This was happening. He was there and he was in love with me. But, get this. He's a ghost.


End file.
